


Poor Anqueer

by Nazbol



Series: Dedicated to the Jritter Ask Accounts [1]
Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Hospital, Jritter, M/M, One-Shot, kinda dumb but I tried my best okay, no beta reading - we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nazbol/pseuds/Nazbol
Summary: Anfash hospitalized Anqueer because he's not gay and now goes to the hospital to bring Anqueer some clothes.
Relationships: Anarcho-Queer/Anarcho-Fascist (Centricide)
Series: Dedicated to the Jritter Ask Accounts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195499
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Poor Anqueer

It was silent. Maybe too silent. Anqueer found himself bored as he slightly turned around in his hospital bed, while trying to not lay in any position that would hurt. Here, at the hospital, he had a lot of time to think about a certain someone and why he couldn't stand that certain someone. 

To understand why the anarchist was in the hospital, one had to go back a few days. It all started with Twitter...That's... A weird-sounding reason to be in the hospital, but let's get into it with more detail.

Anqueer and Anfash have been fighting a lot on there. Anqueer even had a fight before Anmon and Anprim's marriage. But it wasn't Anqueer's fault! It was like Anfash was directly searching for conflict everywhere and people were just more than happy to hit a fash. Even Posadist lost his control there once. Anqueer had to hold back a wheeze as he thought about "bug boy" jokes.

His laughter was only short-term, because he accidentally moved his body in a way, that it hurt. Did that fucker really just shot his poor subclavian artery... Who brings a gun to a fistfight? Jeez. Typical fascists. Anqueer sighed. The fact that he had a broken arm from just letting himself fall unconsciously on the concrete didn't make this any better. 

The anarchist grabbed for his phone once more. Posted how bored he was. Ancap asked him how he was doing, but of course, Anfash was quick to respond as well. "Haha loser". Well, that was to be expected. Anqueer rolled his eyes and decided to listen to a bit of music instead.

But a bit later, he found himself on Twitter once more. Well.. what else was there to do anyway? You can't really do much in a hospital. They even put him alone in a room, which was kinda cool, he had to admit, but it was still boring. And those goddamn hospital gowns... He hated them. 

And so he complained about them on Twitter. To no surprise, the first one to reply was Anfash. What did he have to say this time? Anqueer asked himself, still a bit annoyed about the whole "globohomo is real" discussion. If you can even call it a discussion.

"When I do, will you forgive me for shooting your subclavian artery?" the response of Anfash read. Wait, what? Anqueer didn't really expect that. He paused for a moment, not sure how to respond. The fascist truly was an enigma with his actions sometimes. 

Anqueer started typing. "I won't make any promises." After all, you just shot through my shoulder, the anarchist added in his head, but didn't write so. It took 2 minutes for a response. "Eh, it's worth a shot. I will be over in 10 minutes." The leftist found himself kind of excited by this response. He wondered what Anfash would bring. "Hell yeaaah my room number is 14"

Now he only had to wait for the other to show up.

It really didn't take long for Anfash to show up. Anqueer peaked up in his bed and laid his phone aside on the table next to him as the other anarchist, or at least he says he is, entered. But then, he just stood there for some moment. Just staring back at Anqueer. 

The leftist rose an eyebrow, not sure what to make out of this. Was Anfash not sure what to say? It was hard to read his expression when he had his mask on. Anqueer looked down to Anfash shoulder's and saw that he was wearing a normal backpack. A different type of bag would probably be too gay.

"Well, you look worse in person." Anfash finally said and walked over to Anqueer's bed. Anqueer faked smiled slightly. "Oh? You think so? Who's fault do you think that is?" As Anqueer looked back into the other's eyes, he had to think back to their two fights but got quickly snapped out of it as Anfash moved.

The slightly taller anarchist removed the bag off his back and let it fall down on the ground after getting out a purple hoodie and jogging pants. "There." He simply mumbled as he let the two clothing pieces fall onto the hospital blanket. He already turned around again, ready to go, but as he heard Anqueer moving behind him, he stopped.

Anfash watched as Anqueer now sat on the bed and struggled to remove the hospital gown. A small snicker came from the fascist as he watched the other. "What are you doing, you homo?" Anqueer groaned. "What do you think I'm doing?" He already had enough of Anfash. It was /kinda nice/ that he bought some clothes, but he was still being rude, and not to mention, he hasn't even properly apologized. Man... His poor subclavian artery.

"Okay, stop. You look dumb." In a defeated huff, Anqueer let his free hand fall down on the blanket again and turned around to Anfash with an annoyed expression. Anqueer couldn't be sure, but it almost seemed like Anfash was smiling as he grabbed for Anqueer's hand and tugged him out of the bed. 

Then he narrowed his eyes, he was close, so close that he would definitely call it degenerate, and quickly move away when Anqueer mentioned it. "You don't have pants on?" It rather was a statement than a question and Anqueer tried very hard to not laugh out loud. "No? I'm only wearing this hospital gown as you can see."

There was an awkward silence and Anfash was still ridiculous close. His eyes were still narrowed and he looked like he was intensely thinking about something. Then he finally clapped his hands together, placed them carefully on Anqueer's shoulders afterward, and forced the leftist to sit back down again.

"That you can't even change your clothes is utterly pathetic and such a disgusting display of weakness." Anqueer's expression dropped and he opened his mouth to reply something, but Anfash already went on. "But I will look past that for once and help you to change your clothes. You're basically like a woman." "Anfash, I'm not a woman..." "Shut." "Fuck you."

Anfash laid the purple hoodie aside and instead only had the jogging pants at hand. He kneed down before Anqueer and the leftist really wondered how Anfash was not seeing the suggestiveness joke by doing this, but Anqueer decided to just, yet again, not mention it. He didn't want to hear about Anfash rambling about globohomo again. He just. He just couldn't take that bullshit a second time in a row and in real life at that. The whole "big gay" thing already had been dumb enough.

"Give me your leg" Easy enough. Anqueer stretched out his right leg and Anfash quickly began pushing the jogging pants over it. "The other." He then demanded and did the same to Anqueer's left leg. Now the pants reached him a little bit over the knees. "Wow." Anqueer didn't sound very excited about this. "Shut up and stand up"

Another demand, not really cool. Anqueer stood up anyway. Anfash grabbed for the end of the pants and embarrassingly looked away. Anqueer blinked at the taller man in silence. Then, "You do know I still have a free hand? You don't have to-" Anqueer tried to say, but the fascist's head turned back around to him. He glared. "But I want to." Woah. Woaaaah. Gay, Anfash, gay. Anqueer opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again. No globohomo discussion. No globohomo discussion.

Anfash finally managed to brush the joggings jeans over Anqueer's butt and the awkward silence once again fulfilled the room. "Wow, thanks." It felt great to wear pants now, but he still really wanted to get rid of the hospital gown. He didn't like how it felt on his skin.

"The hoddie might be a bit big though." Anqueer rose an eyebrow. "You're not that much taller, Anfash." "Twitter users called me skinny lanky dude." "I'm pretty sure that wasn't a compliment and in the middle of a fight." "Shut up." Anqueer's free hand removed his broken arm out of the bracket, so he had an easier time removing the hospital grown. "Stop telling me what to do, Fashie."

"Fine!" Without warning, Anfash grabbed for the clothing piece as well and basically tore it off of the other. Anqueer made a straddled voice and then he was finally free, his pare chest exposed to Anfash. "Jeez, did you had to do it like this?" He asked, but Anfash was yet again just being mute, just staring intensely.

It really was ironic how the "ex-gay" was sending all the gay signals, while the openly gay just stood there. 

"Okay anyway," Anfash seemed to have finally brought his soul back into his body and now grabbed for the purple hoodie. He helped Anqueer into it and then put the broken arm back into the bracket. "You already look half as shitty as before." 

And he did feel better too. Anqueer actually had to genuinely smile. The other really was an idiot and he still wanted to bash his face in, but he had his little moments. "Thanks."


End file.
